


my heart is out on a tightrope

by aphwhales



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Conversations About Trauma, Gen, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sort Of Mute Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphwhales/pseuds/aphwhales
Summary: “Hey, hey, I… I didn’t mean toscareyou, you idiot. What are you up crying about, anyway?”Everyone tried to attack me again.





	1. your best friend

**Author's Note:**

> title from "a conversation about identity" by tea  
> yeah boi  
> gonna try and update this as often as possible? intending one chapter per boss + prologue(flowey)/epilogue(sans)

Frisk wakes up crying and shaking, twisted in their blankets, three times not four days apart when Flowey confronts them over it. 

Waking up to a formerly malevolent flower staring you down grumpily in the wee hours of the morning is… not a great way to start your day, really. Frisk nearly screams when they notice Flowey. He perks up slightly when he notices how Frisk flinches when they first see him in their peripheral vision, then drags his flower pot up the side of the bed a bit so he can be closer to their face. 

“Hey, hey, I… I didn’t mean to _scare_ you, you idiot,” he mumbles, nudging his face into Frisk’s, almost cat-like. Frisk smiles a bit through their sniffles and nuzzles him back. 

“What are you up crying about, anyway?” Flowey grumbles after Frisk calms down enough to stop actively crying. 

Frisk’s hands move very, very slowly, and they shake despite the time Flowey’s given them to calm down. _Everyone tried to attack me again._

Flowey shrinks back into the warmth of the blankets that Frisk had kicked up, ashamed. Frisk frowns. Cups the bowl formed by his bright yellow petals. _We had our conversation_.

“You’re an idiot. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Frisk’s voice is hoarse. “You’ve did some weird stuff as a flower, when you were Underground. Before you knew better. And. And I forgave you for that, remember.” It’s a statement, a fact. 

“You shouldn’t have.” Flowey grunts, hauling himself back onto the table at the end of Frisk’s bed. 

Frisk slips back into sign, _I did, though._ They pause for a moment. _Maybe I should talk to everyone else like that, too._

“What, the ol’ ‘why’d you try to murder me’ talk?” Flowey rolls his eyes, glaring a bit. His face softens when he sees the earnest look on Frisk’s face. “...I’m being mean. Maybe you’re right. But most of them, it was just, just orders, you know?” 

_For you it was just what you knew_.

“...Yeah. I don’t know. Might help.” 

_I’m going to try. Start with mom_. 

“...” Flowey nods. “Start with mom,” he agrees, slow, almost testing the words on his tongue.


	2. heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya im just gonna post what i have done bc i hate waiting to update

“My children, you look exhausted!” Toriel exclaims the next morning as Frisk pads down the stairs barefooted with Flowey’s pot in their arms. 

“We couldn’t sleep,” Frisk mumbles, rubbing one eye as they set Flowey on the back step in the cold morning air before closing the screen door. The golden flower mouths ‘good luck’ before disappearing into the dirt and reappearing in a messy portion of Toriel’s garden. 

Frisk clambers up into one of Toriel’s old kitchen chairs as Toriel passes them a mug - tea, a quarter milk with a teaspoon of sugar in it - to get their day started. It’s late for them, honestly. Talking to Flowey so early in the morning did a number on them. 

Toriel stares at Frisk quizzically for a moment as they stir their tea bit to cool it, and then glances towards the clock. Frisk’s eyes are still slightly puffy, but as far as she knows, the child didn’t wake up from a nightmare the night before. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Toriel asks, edging gently into the topic.

Frisk begins to raise their shoulders in a shrug, before dropping them heavily and sighing. Then, they shake their head, and sign with wobbly hands, _Can we talk about the Underground?_

“Of course!” Toriel is eager for the subject change. “You know I love to tell stories of my time in -” 

Frisk shakes their head rapidly. _When I left you, I mean._

Toriel’s fangs clack together audibly as Frisk drops their hands into their lap and sniffles. When she says nothing, the child continues, out loud, “I. I keep having nightmares about when I had to fight all of you. And I know it’s not really anyone’s fault at this but it’s so awful to keep remembering.” 

Frisk sobs, knuckles turning white where they grip the hem of their shirt. Toriel chews her lip, tears running into her fur. “My child… Frisk,” she whispers hoarsely. “I never would have…” The sentence hangs unfinished in the air, but both of them know that Frisk can LOAD. Both of them know that Toriel could have very well killed the child and not known it. 

Toriel stands and rounds the table, pulling Frisk from their seat into her arms, collapsing into a pile of goat monster and human child on the floor. “I would never hurt you. None of us, none of us… we never want to hurt you ever again, my child.” 

Frisk nods into her shoulder. “I know.” 

They sway gently together, just the two of them, until Frisk has stopped crying and leans back to make sure that Toriel has, too. _I’m planning on talking to the others, too,_ they sign almost cautiously.  
“Be gentle,” Toriel whispers in reply, hugging them close. “All of us feel so terrible about what happened Underground, Frisk, and knowing that there were divergent timelines... " 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Frisk whispers back, rubbing the edge of her ear. “I just want talk. Like we did, just now.” 


	3. bonetrousle

“I AM! SO EXCITED YOU DECIDED TO HANG OUT WITH ME WHILE MY BROTHER IS OUT DOING… WHATEVER IT IS HE DOES WITH ALPHYS!” Papyrus exclaims as he sets down a box in front of Frisk. Frisk’s smile is strained. It had taken them a week to psyche themself up enough to even ask Papyrus if he could hang out, despite Flowey’s assurances that the skeleton was, in his words, ‘a big boney pushover’. 

Honestly, Frisk was probably worried over nothing, but still. They were worried. Papyrus _was_ , after all, their best friend. Even if they couldn’t stop dreaming of bones flying at them, and gravity pushing down on them, threatening to swallow them. 

Frisk gasps. 

Papyrus looks up from studying the picture on the front of the box to get a feel for the puzzle. “HUMAN?” Frisk’s eyes are slightly glazed, panicky. They’re unfocused, and they don’t respond to Papyrus’s repeated attempts to help them recover. 

He raises a hand to wave in front of their face - maybe they’ve fallen asleep, Sans does that sometimes… 

Frisk _flinches_. Papyrus flinches and lowers his hand. 

“Human,” he says, lowering his voice a bit. “I Don’t Know What’s Wrong, But Know! You Can Tell The Great Papyrus Anything.” Looking almost sneaky, he glances around, and whispers conspiratorially, “Truthfully, Sans’s Attacks May Be All I’ve Dealt With, And! They May Be Different Than Yours. But! They Can’t Be That Different.” 

Then, he quiets down, occasionally taking Frisk’s hand to guide it to place a puzzle piece. Otherwise, he leaves them alone. It’s… nice. 

And yet, this was the same skeleton that had been so keen on capturing Frisk and giving them to Undyne. He had easily gotten them down to 1 HP. 

Frisk lifts their hands gingerly, _Why did you_ It comes out only as a fragment. 

“HM?” Papyrus responds. 

_It’s a heavy question. Emotional._

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN TAKE IT.”

_Why did you attack me, in Snowdin?_

Papyrus is silent. Then, quietly, “You...You _Know_ Why, Though, Human. It Was Always That...Superficial? I Suppose.” He chuckles. “Stupidly Superficial.” 

_It._ Out loud, now. “It hurts, knowing. Knowing one of your best friends has…” 

“Yes. I. I’m Sorry.” 

They lift their hands to sign again. _The gravity made me feel like I was suffocating. And I hate that._

“That’s Why You Panicked When I Held Up My Hand. You Thought I Was Going To Use A Gravity Attack On You?”

Frisk nods. Then, _I’m sorry I ruined our friend-date. But I really needed to talk about this._

Papyrus grins. He’s not quite back to his boisterous self, but he’s close. “Quite Alright, Frisk!”


	4. spear of justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo its me!!   
> i forgot to mention im still trying to get a feel for the majority of the characters soo uh . heres the UNDYNE chapter.   
> i have literally no clue how to work alphys in? maybe next chapter (mettaton chapter. im nervous about writing him)

Just standing in front of Undyne’s door is daunting. Thinking about talking to her is even more frightening, considering how aggressively lively she could be in day to day life.

Frisk is nervous when they knock, nervous being lead in, and nervous sitting down, even though Undyne lets them poke around the kitchen for their own tea. 

“So what’s up?” Undyne asks, between sips of probably still boiling tea. “Papyrus said something about you needing to talk to me.” Frisk must look stricken or something, because Undyne looks panicked for a minute and quickly adds, “Not that you have to tell me, but you know, if you wanna talk!” 

Frisk doesn’t say anything, just folds and unfolds their hands around their mug. It’s pale yellow with a gray tabby cat on it. Undyne watches silently. The child raises their hands, slowly. _I keep having nightmares._

“Not that I don’t empathize,” Undyne muses, bringing her mug to her lips with a huff. “But I’m not the best person to come to with that, punk.”

_About when all of you tried to_ Frisk’s hands shake. _Tried to kill me. To give my soul to Asgore._

Undyne puts her mug down. 

“Stars, Frisk.” 

_I’m sorry_ Their hands are trembling uncontrollably now and they can’t manage signing anymore. “I k-keep thinking about when you told me I was about to d-die, and I mean, i-it,” Frisk hiccups slightly, but continues as Undyne stares, dumbfounded. “It was just orders and it wasn’t really your choice-” 

“Frisk.” Undyne interrupts. Frisk stops babbling, but doesn’t look up. Just wipes their face on their sleeve. Undyne winces, and stares mostly at the fridge as she speaks. “You know, before I met you, and… you know, fought you multiple times and then got kinda tricked into making friends with you… I really wanted to wage war on humanity. I was so mad that they kept us Underground. And it was kind of stupid of me, you know?

But, um. You made me see humanity wasn’t all bad. That it was really more like your ancestors who trapped us than you guys. And now I know I was wrong and. I guess I’m trying to be better, you know?” Undyne finishes, a little lamely, but with her normal grin. 

 

Frisk shrugs. “I guess?” 

“I don’t wanna like,” Undyne pauses, chews her lip for a moment. “Like, push the blame off myself? Because I definitely deserve to feel pretty terrible for trying to kill a kid for something a bunch of dead people did. But it was stupidity. And it wasn’t directed towards you.” She sucks in a breath. “You didn’t, uh, do anything. You know?” 

Frisk nods, and lays their head on the table. “That’s. That’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.” 

Undyne grins. Ruffles Frisk’s hair gently with a clawed hand. “Mhm, punk. Don’t stew about it in the future.”


	5. death by glamour

Mettaton’s busy when Frisk goes to see him, so they end up hanging out with Alphys and Napstablook in his living room instead. 

“Wh-what did you need to see Mettaton for, anyway, Frisk?” Alphys asks, trying to start a conversation. Frisk isn’t quite sure what she’s doing - maybe texting Undyne - but they’re perfectly content to send bad memes to Sans and Papyrus and giggle at the puns and yelling they get in response, and Napstablook seems fine lying on the couch and listening to their spookwave music. 

Frisk shrugs, not really keen on talking about it. 

“Um, Undyne mentioned you guys talked about some stuff…” the lizard monster continues a little quieter. “Is that what you have to talk to Mettaton about?” 

Frisk only nods as they send a gif of Snoopy falling from the sky to the skeletons. 

~

Mettaton is doing laundry when Frisk sneaks away from Alphys. It’s shockingly domestic, for him. Frisk giggles a bit. 

“Hm?” Mettaton relaxes a bit when he looks down to see Frisk. “Hello, darling!” 

Frisk waves and climbs onto the robot’s bed; Mettaton just smiles at them and continues folding his laundry. Eventually, Frisk begins pulling socks out of the pile and rolling them into little matching balls, trying to help out. 

“So, you’re here to talk about something, hm?” 

Frisk looks up. Mettaton doesn’t look away from the shirt he’s folding, just smiles sadly. “Word travels between friends, sweetheart. Go on, ask me.” 

The child tilts their head questioningly. _Ask you?_

“You came to ask why I tried to kill you Underground, didn’t you, darling?” Mettaton replies, quieter, still not making eye contact. Frisk scrunches their eyes shut. 

Then, they nod. 

“It was, like Papyrus - he told me about this, by the way, in case you want to yell at him, aha - an enormously superficial reason. But maybe hearing it from my mouth will help you out? It was for the ratings, first. And then I had the idea that I would take my beauty to the Surface.” He looks wistful for a moment. “Of course, most of my viewers are still monsters. And I don’t know what I would do without that base. It’s your choice to judge, really, if it was a good reason or not, or a better reason than, say, Undyne’s. I don’t think so. At least she had something to fight for. What was I fighting for, the chance to be,” he snorts, “robot-monster Alex Trebek? And killing a child for that? It wasn’t right. And I’m sorry about it, truly.” 

Frisk closes their eyes. Opens them. Smiles.   
_Thank you._


	6. bergentruckung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up being a short chapter, i actually feel like asgore would have the least amount of explaining to do, though there WOULD be a lot of trust building to do.

Asgore is possibly the hardest to approach. He knew what he was doing Underground, but he was so upset. Frisk nearly turns around as they approach his backyard. He’s weeding, from the looks of it; his sunflowers and golden flowers always got an awful amount of thick weeds, but he always told Frisk and Flowey he preferred it that way; it gave him something to do. 

They speak because they approach him from behind, not because it’s hard to: “Hi, Asgore.” 

“Ah, Frisk!” He grins when he sees them - it’s a change from the sad smile he wore in the Underground, the determined scowl he wore as he destroyed the MERCY option in their encounter. It’s nice, honestly. 

Frisk waves in reply, before they’re scooped up in a hug. Asgore’s arms are warm and strong. 

When Asgore puts them down and kneels in front of them, he has a more serious look on his face, similar to how he looked as he led them to the barrier, and Frisk searches his face. He places his hands on their shoulders, and quietly, he assures them, “I never wanted to hurt anyone, Frisk. I hope you recognize that I was misguided in my plans to free my people.” 

_It still hurts._

“I understand. I am not trying to deny that. Merely provide you a reason, as everyone else has.” Asgore smiles again, sad, like he was Underground, and holds Frisk tightly. Frisk wraps their arms tightly around his mane. 

_I don’t want to let go_.  
Asgore lets out a watery chuckle as the child signs behind his head.


	7. an ending

Frisk is “too young for coffee”, but Toriel can’t stop them if she isn’t awake yet. It’s nice and warm in their throat against the chill of the air, but the cold of the wood steps on the porch feels nice on their bare feet. 

The smell is nice, too, and that might be what the like most. It might all be what clues Sans in to someone being on the porch in the first place. 

“coffee? aren’t you a latte too young to be drinkin’ that?” Sans asks as he sits next to them. He’s dressed mostly normally, save for the lack of socks, and sweatpants instead of shorts, maybe because of the cold. 

When he doesn’t get a laugh back, he pries, “you thinkin’ about all your conversations?” 

Frisk puts their coffee down between their feet on the steps. _Yes. It’s weird that I’m friends with people who tried to kill me_.

“divergent timelines. so therefore, in at least one timeline -” 

_I tried to kill you all, too._

Sans sighs. “prob’ly. best not to dwell on it. this timeline, this timeline only.” 

Frisk speaks, hoarse from sleep and not using their voice for many hours, “You sound like Papyrus.” 

“he sounds like his therapist.” Sans rests his head on the human’s shoulder. They’ve had a growth spurt - three inches taller than him. “this timeline only.” 

“This timeline only.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> my tumblr is asriells if anyone wants to shout about stuff 
> 
> bye bye!!


End file.
